


The Secret Life of Bruce Wayne

by Sinshipsahoy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce has no chill, Kidnapping, M/M, Rarepair, Sliceoflife, like my guy cannot function, mild violence, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-01-29 15:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinshipsahoy/pseuds/Sinshipsahoy
Summary: Jimmy Olsen lands a chance to take a sneak peek into billionaire Bruce Wayne’s personal life. What he ends up with is more than anyone could’ve anticipated.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Jimmy Olsen
Comments: 21
Kudos: 33





	1. Bruce Wayne at my OFFICE?! (Not Clickbait!)

**Author's Note:**

> Leave my fucking rare pair/ crack ship alone please ;^;

Jimmy Olsen’s first love was a disposable camera. He couldn’t have been more than five or six at the time, but he very quickly became hooked. His parents humored him, going so far as to buy him cartridges for it. That was just the start.

Like other boys with an early obsession for cars or trains (or tractors, in the case of Clark) Jimmy found that he’d never lost that initial fondness. At age ten, he matured to his first digital camera. In high school, he became the schools pseudo official photographer- any semi-relevant event, and he was bound to get an email from a teacher or club leader, requesting he bring his prized possession and take some pictures. By the time he graduated, he’d moseyed his way back to traditional film, with a camera that had cost him a pretty penny. 

While many of his peers experimented with drugs or each other, Jimmy- being a scrawny, pimply, nerdy ginger- experimented instead with video. The new medium came with its own set of quirks, but with the guidance of those who came before him (wikihow), he grew to love filmmaking as much as photography. 

Fast forward to now. A couple years out of college, cementing himself comfortably at the DP, with a side hustle as a wedding photographer. The allure of the moving picture called to him still. What does an young amateur do then? 

Start a YouTube channel, of course. 

He started filming anything that caught his eye- from Superman to the Everyman. He eventually discovered his niche by filming his life at the Daily Planet. There was almost always something interesting happening; if there wasn’t, he could just bother Clark or Lois, or just get a shot of someone picking their nose. 

Though it sounds cliche, Jimmy really didn’t expect to get any attention. There were millions of users on the platform- hundreds of millions of videos, all poised to drown out his little vlogs. Despite all odds, his videos seemed to strike a nerve with viewers. 

If the comments were anything to go by, his channel was like a real life version of _The Office._ Clark was cute “in a boring sorta way”, and those who didn’t want to date him personally shipped him with Lois. Perry was at first opposed to filming on DP property, but Jimmy promised it would bring more readers. That part was debatable, but nevertheless, OlsenTV skyrocketed to about three hundred thousand subscribers in little over a year. He definitely felt the pressure to perform, but he remembered that his channel offered what the platform was lacking these days: _authenticity_. 

Jimmy leaned back in his swivel chair, camera facing himself and Clark, the latter clacking away at his computer.

“Question of the day, CK, ya ready?” 

“Shoot.”

“What would you do if you were Superman for a day?”

“What would I do..” the Kansan pondered. “Probably nothing different from usual.” 

“Nothing? Not even fly?”

“Get to work on time.” 

Jimmy snorted a laugh. 

“Yea, sure, CK.”

The chief editor shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. Little cream, no sugar. Boring. “Well, what would you do? Would you help people?” 

“You don’t need to be Superman to help people-“

Clark smiled slightly.

“- but you _do_ need to be Superman to steal a billion dollars, which is what I’d do.”

His lips curled inwards. 

“That reminds me...” Clark started.

“He’s here!” Cat brayed from the door to the suite. There was a commotion, as though an electric charge surged through the room.

“Wait! Who’s here?” Jimmy asked, scrambling with his camera. He zoomed in on the entrance, and saw only flashes and and suits. 

Amid the awed silence of the office, in walked the Daily Planet’s new owner. 

Bruce. Wayne. 

“Holy shit,” Jimmy whispered, trying to get his camera to focus despite of his shaking hands. “_Holyshitsholyshitholyshit_-“

Then he saw it. Bruce Wayne- _the_ Bruce Wayne- looked at him. Jimmy. And smiled. 

It must’ve taken all of five seconds for  Mr. Wayne to walk into Perry’s office, but it felt longer. 

“Did you see that, CK?”

“I saw.” 

“He looked at me!”

Lois made her way over and took a seat on Clark’s desk. 

“God, his cufflinks cost more than my whole life,” Jimmy said in a hushed voice. 

“Jimmy, he’s a normal person,” Clark replied, the only one completely unaffected by the new visitor.

“_You’re_ normal, Clark,” Jimmy shot back as Clark side eyed the camera, “_He’s_ Bruce Wayne, money incarnate.”

Seeing the Prince of Gotham was like seeing Bigfoot. The guy almost never made public outings and especially not to some newspaper- he always sent someone in his place. He had to be on business or something. Real business- the visit to the DP was likely just a cover for whatever top secret rich people stuff he had to do.

“Lois, you interviewed him- what’s he like?” 

She huffed a laugh. 

“Couldn’t tell ya. He doesn’t _do_ interviews, Jimmy. He does a pre-approved Q&A session and if you throw a curve ball he’ll ruin your career.” Her face went a shade of pink.

“Delete that. I didn’t say that.” 

“Ok.”

“Jimmy!”

“Ok!” 

He ended up cutting the camera off, figuring he had enough footage for one day. Clark cleared his throat. “Well, regardless. The hero worship is ridiculous.” 

“I don’t hero worsh-“ he gasped, “Wait, do you think he knows _Batman_?”

Clark’s eyebrow twitched. “No. Why don’t you try to interview him? Do a little doc- doc serie- document-“

“Docuseries.”

“Right. For your channel.”

Lois rolled her eyes. “Come one, Smallville. That’s a little idealistic even by your standards.” 

Clark shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to try. Shoot him an email, ya know? Mr. Wayne, my name is, da-da-da, please get back to me. No big deal. Worst case scenario he doesn’t read it.” 

Jimmy considered this. There must be hundreds of people vying for Mr. Wayne’s attention at any given time. And besides, the guy had to be crazy busy. Or maybe he wasn’t? Did billionaires have any real work to do? 

Mr. Wayne wasn’t in Perry’s office for more than half an hour. When he walked out, Cat- who Jimmy now realized was showing more cleavage than usual- tried to get his attention. He gave her a polite smile, opting instead to wave in Jimmy’s general direction with an impersonal “Keep up the good work!” As he walked out. 

It was a lot of excitement for the morning, but soon enough the newsroom got back into its usual grove. Jimmy spent the day pretending to do work. 

Wayne would never answer. 

_But if he did? _

He wouldn’t. 

_But so what? _

Jimmy typed up an email. He typed up several emails. He wanted it to be perfect- though, would it matter? He wasn’t getting an answer, right? So...fuck it. 

_Send_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone’s interested, I’ve opened up fic commissions. Please dm me on Twitter @RaveThebird or email me @thepandahero123@gmail.com
> 
> In any case, thank you for reading!


	2. Can men and women just be friends? (DP Vlog #117)

After a week, Jimmy had effectively forgotten about the email. The day after sending, he refreshed his mailbox every five minutes. Realizing he was being an idiot and getting his hopes up, he stopped, deciding to just focus on work. 

His video showcasing the Wayne sighting garnered more views than any other he’d made, so that was a plus. For the most part, people were accusing him of over reacting because he was only onscreen for a few seconds. Others were just leaving thirst comments, and a very vocal minority were angry that anyone would care about some guy who made more in an hour than most did in a year. All in all, a very typical gradient of reactions, but the algorithm doesn’t care about negatives or positives; it cares about _engagement_. 

Now in the break room, he hopped up on the counter and started filming.

“Question of the day, CK.”

“Alrighty,” he responded, stirring his cup.

“Do you think men and women can really be just friends?”

Like all of his questions, Clark did him the courtesy of giving it thought. 

“I think so. One of my best friends is a woman.”

“Who? Lois?”

The larger man’s expression went blank.  “Y-yes.”

Jimmy pulled his face away from the camera to look Clark head on. A sneer twisted on his face. 

“That mean you never thought about _dating_ her?”

It was laughably easy to get Clark flustered. He went beet red. “Did ya hear Batman was seen in old town?”

“There’s a Batman sighting every other week. I don’t believe it.” He snorted out a laugh. “Hey, do  you think him and Superman are dating?”

Clark choked on his coffee, and broke into a laugh. He went on for awhile. It really wasn’t that funny, but Clark’s sense of humor was a little weird.  


  
Clark was a little weird.  
  


“I don’t think Batman’s gay.”

“What about Supes?”

“I got my eye on Supes.”

“What? Do _you_ wanna date Superman?” Amid Clark’s new laughing fit, he continued, “‘Cause, ya know, as a heterosexual man, Superman can _get_ it.”

_Heterosexual man_. Well, he was mostly straight, anyway. Everyone was like, a little gay, right? Anyone who said they wouldn’t fuck Superman was a goddamn liar anyway. So, he was straight with reasonable exception. 

Clark wiped his eye and took a deep breath. “Thank- thank you, Jimmy. I’m really grateful that you’re comfortable enough to tell me what men you’d sleep with.”

Jimmy kept filming as he made his way to his desk, asking a few others the question of the day as well. He absently debated on whether or not to keep the footage from Clark. The stuff about Lois was perfect fodder, but the rest may be deemed homophobic, though Jimmy couldn’t exactly articulate why. It was hard to predict what people would get offended over, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit on his bedroom floor and fake cry in some apology video. Then again, comments were comments, right? Dislikes were still engagement, and the clip wasn’t so bad as to stir real controversy anyway. It would stay. 

He cut filming and went about his normal routine. Without much thought, he submitted his timesheet and opened his email. Delete, delete, delete. 

_Re: Docuseries_

Jimmy froze. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t. 

_Mr. Olsen, _

_After receiving your email-_

**Jesus Christ on a cracker.**

-_a look at your webpage_-

He might’ve cringed at the use of webpage, but his heart was about to give out.

-_be happy to meet with you._

_Sincerely_-

Jimmy closed his email, opened it, and closed it again. He opened it and stared wide eyed without reading any word. His first coherent thought was that if he hadn’t used the bathroom earlier, he would’ve pissed himself.

“Holy smokes.”

_“Gah!” _Jimmy jumped out of his skin, and landed promptly on the floor. He got a few quizzical looks, but it’s not like he gave a fuck.  Clark didn’t move from his swivel chair, having scooted over to read over Jimmy’s shoulder. 

“Y’kay?” 

“Am I okay!?” He shouted, quickly dropping his tone in response to Clark’s grimace. He readjusted himself in his chair. Clark turned up his hearing aid and Jimmy dropped to a whisper. “Christ, CK, this is one of-n- _the_ greatest thing to happen to me! I have to get a haircut- I have to get new clothes- I have to call my mom-“

“You have to request off.”

“I have to request off! I have to- oh fuck, I am I even supposed to get there?” 

Clark went back to skim through the email. “Says here that if you can make it, you’ll be picked up at the airport.” 

“Picked up- by a plane?”

“Guess so.” 

The redhead leaned back in his chair again, pressing against his temples. 

“What the hell do I even wear? I don’t wanna look poor.”

Hm. 

“...Don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.” 

The older man stroked his chin. “Well, Jimbo, you better focus on getting the week- maybe two weeks- off. Then come up with some kinda outline about what you wanna talk about- and do your research _beforehand_.” 

This was happening. This was really, _really_ happening.

Perry walked by and Jimmy jumped up to follow him to his office. 

“Hey chief, I gotta talk to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I head cannon Clark as using a hearing aid. It’s sometimes explained that his glasses were used to deflect his laser eyes/make his eyes look a more human shade of blue. So I headcannon that he got a hearing aid as a little kid to help differentiate between sounds near by and sounds far away. Idk I just like it


	3. New Series! (Please Watch!)

Suffice it to say, Perry sent him home early. 

He couldn’t even think straight. What the hell would they talk about? They’d have to do a house tour- houses tour? A day in the life? Spending $100,000 on Gucci? A caviar mukbang with gold on it? 

His commute home consisted of an eerie calm intermixed with him feeling like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Jimmy walked to his apartment, unlocked the door, plopped on the couch, threw his face in a pillow, and screamed. 

The apartment was modest, to say the least. He didn’t have a bedroom, so his couch was a foldout.He had small kitchenette, a bathroom you could almost turn around in, and hand-me-down dressers and tables from his family. He didn’t have a TV, opting instead for a much cheaper projection screen that he could connect to his phone- he only really watched YouTube and Netflix, so it didn’t matter much. The only other screen in his possession was his desktop computer, where he did most of his editing. 

It was becoming quickly apparent to him that he didn’t even know what a lot of money looked like. He’d never been impoverished, per se, but he hadn’t grown up in the burbs either. His family had settled in a rowhouse, in what polite company would call the “inter-city”. It wasn’t bad, really- he sure as fuck wasn’t hood. He never starved, and was even a little spoiled, but he also knew what his parents sacrificed to provide for him and his sister. What was it like to just not have to worry about paying your rent? About paying for _anything_? 

Oh, god- where was he going to stay? There had to be some cheapo hotels he could get- did his godmom still live in Gotham? Maybe he could stay with her for a couple days. No matter what, he was gonna have to borrow money from his parents. 

He spent some time pulling up hotel options. Cheapest he could find was a motel charging $45 a day- not bad, but he was guaranteed to get bed bugs. There was a safer bet at $250 but staying there for two weeks? He shuddered to think of what hidden fees they’d gouge him with in that time. Of course, both of those fine establishments were situated in the lower East side, which meant there was a good chance he simply would not survive. He’d grown up in a _Metropolis’_ ghetto, after all. Gotham was an entirely different animal. Welp, better ask mom for Cynthia’s number- 

As if on cue, his phone vibrated. He didn’t know the number. Probably a robocall. He answered anyway, and was meant with a voice that he could only register as..._hot_.

“Mr. Olsen, it’s Bruce.”

“Who?” He said, like a fucking idiot.

“_Wayne_.”

Jimmy sat ramrod straight, completely flustered. “Oh, holy shit- sorry I’m- I didn’t...thank you so much for this opportunity.” Great, way to not sound completely retarded. 

“Right. I apologize for calling you on your personal phone, but Mr. White informed me that you went home early.” 

“Y-Yea. I needed a little time to process everything.”

The other man let out a small chuckle. “Perfectly understandable. I just wanted to clear some things up with you. That alright?”

“Of course.” 

“Okay. You need to be at the Metro airport at 8am Monday. Go to gate A23, and show your ID to the attendants- they’ll know what to do.” 

“A23, 8am- got it.”

“When you arrive in Gotham, you’ll be escorted to your hotel.”

“Oh, ha, I was just booking one right now-“

“Cancel it.”

Jimmy blinked a couple times. “Uh...what?” 

“Mr. Olsen,” he implored, “you’re my guest! I’ve set you up for a two week stay in the penthouse suite at the Warrington,” his tone dropped to a tease, “unless you have somewhere better in mind.” 

If he wasn’t shaking before, he was now. He couldn’t even imagine how much money that was. He didn’t want to. And god, why was this guy to charming? Did he always sound like he just rolled out of bed? 

“I don’t- I can’t...thank you so much.” 

He wasn’t coming off as particularly enthused, but that was only because he literally couldn’t believe what was happening. He remembered what Lois said before. No one knew who this guy was. Not _really_. 

“Mr. Wayne?” he asked, building some courage.

“Hm?” 

“I want this series to reflect who you are. I want the world to see what it’s like being you. I need you to be honest with me. Because of you’re not, there’s no point in this. Okay? Do you promise?” 

There was a prolonged silence. Jimmy thought the call dropped.

“Hello?”

“I promise.” 

There was silence for another minute or so. It dawned on him that he managed to do what no one else had- secure an all access pass to the Prince of Gotham. Maybe that had dawned on Bruce, too. 

Jimmy broke the silence.

“Well, uh, I’ll see ya.”

“Right. Goodnight, Mr. Olsen.” 

He hung up. 

“FUCK!” 

This wasn’t a stupid vlog anymore. This would make or break his entire career. Would he even be able to deliver? 

He pulled out his camera, setting in the coffee table to record. 

“Um, hey,” he said, leaning forward. “So, Uh, something really wild happened to me.”

“If you guys saw my vlog from last week- I think it was from the 15th or something- Bruce Wayne, who uh, owns the DP, showed up to my office. I showed a clip of him walking in.” 

“Well...Clark told me he should try to get an interview, and...I did.”

It didn’t even sound real as he was saying it. For the first time since this morning, he broke into a smile. 

“He actually wrote back to me. So, next Monday, I’m starting filming on a docuseries called-“

The name came to him in that moment. 

“The Secret Life of Bruce Wayne.” 

He patted his knees, sighing outwardly. 

“Um, right. So, the daily vlogs will be momentarily discontinued. This really came out of nowhere, so I don’t have anything more to tell you. So I’ll see you guys in the next video. Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually imagine Gotham as Philadelphia, but bigger and way more dangerous. But for the sake of this story, Metropolis is more like Philadelphia (with jimmys standard of living being a lot like west or southwest if you’re familiar) and Gotham being a cross between New York and Detroit. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	4. Get ready with me!

Jimmy turned his phone on the next morning, only to find that civilization was collapsing. He had multiple texts and calls from just about every single person in his contact list. Did someone fucking _die_? His phone was still pinging with notifications, and now Lois was calling him for the fortieth time.

“Lo, what the hell-“

“You’re trending on Twitter.”

“I’m fucking _what_?”

He put her on speaker, and, with shaking hands, opened the app for his favorite hellsite. 

  1. _Trending _

_#SecretLifeOfBruceWayne_

And, as it seemed to be the theme of the week, Jimmy screamed. Lois screamed. It was magic. 

“Holy shit-“

“You’re famous!”

“I’m famous!”

_“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” _

_“Ahhhhhhh!” _

They broke out into delirious laughter. This week was getting crazier and crazier! Jimmy’s chest was tight with excitement and- naturally- crippling anxiety. 

“Ah, aw jeez-zus christ, Lois. I think I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

“Do you need someone to come over? I can probably bully Clark into keeping you company.”

Jimmy huffed a laugh. “He should be here in a little bit anyway- he volunteered to help me pack.”

Who needed Superman when you had Clark Kent? 

“I’ll leave ya to it then.”

“Alright.” 

“And Jimmy?”

“Yea?”

“I’m proud of you. Really.”

Jimmy smiled. Lois was the first one at the Daily Planet to recognize his talent for photography. If it hadn’t been for her, he’d probably still be doing coffee runs for the office. She was basically, like, his work mom or something. 

“Thanks, Lo.” 

After calling his family to explain what the fuck was going on, he turned off his notifications and did what one should never do. He read what people were saying about him on the internet. 

Creating a presence for yourself online required the development of thick skin. Jimmy was no stranger to “hate comments”, and even took them in stride. After all, who was he to argue with someone said he looked like a muppet? 

This...was different. He laid on his fold out and scrolled through the hashtag. Among the sea of glittering Kpop idols and people asking who the fuck OlsenTV was, were people getting at the core of it- and him. It was said in thousands of different ways, but the question was the same.

_‘What does Bruce Wayne want with some nobody?’_

——————

Clark was a big man. Giant, even, and he made the apartment look even smaller than it was. Jimmy’s whole life smaller than it was. 

The pair set to work pulling out Jimmy’s wardrobe. There wasn’t many pieces to sort through, but the younger man felt he needed to have the perfect look. This series was a big deal, and he needed to look like he was ready for it. All his shirts and pants were laid out on his mattress, jackets hanging on the head of the fold out- all of his bow ties, shoes everything he could conceivably wear. Even the stuff from the laundry basket was on display. 

The pair stared at the arrangement, trying to mentally put together outfits. 

“I think you should go casual for the first meeting.” Clark suggested. 

“Yea, but I can’t be too casual- I don’t wanna look like an asshole.” He bit the skin on the side of his finger. “I just- I wanna look _cool_ ya know? I never look cool.” 

Looking at his clothes, that was obvious. Christ, who even wore _bowties_ anymore? Damn near all his pants were multi colored skinny jeans or high waters- because how else was he supposed to show off the socks he paid too much money for? The patterned button downs and cardigans- when did he decide that looking like flamboyant Mr. Rogers was the way to go? 

It was all he had and it wasn’t enough. 

Clark looked at him.

“Are you okay?” 

And just like that, he was a mess. 

He started to cry, something he hated doing in general, and _especially_ not in front of someone else. It wasn’t heavy crying- really only a few tears- but his lip trembled and he sank to the floor. 

“I don’t know, dude.” 

“Hey, hey,” The bigger man said as he sat down next to him, “what’s the matter?” 

Jimmy rubbed his face and took a deep breath. 

“I don’t- I just feel dumb.” 

Clark took off his fedora and spun it between his hands. “Yeah.” 

That was Clark’s way of nudging Jimmy into spilling his guts. And, after a minute, he did. 

“Like, I don’t know what I was even thinking with this, ya know? What the fuck am I gonna say to Bruce Wayne?”

“Do you think you can’t do it?”

“No. Yes? I just...” he scratched his cheek, “Will he even like me?” 

Clark snorted, then laughed. “Of course he will. I like you. Lois likes you. Most everyone likes you, Jimbo.”

“Yea, but Mr. Wayne is different.”

“Why? ‘Cause he’s rich?”

“Well, yea. Crazy rich. Richer than rich. And he’s been that way his whole life.” He snapped to look at Clark. “Ya know he _called_ me?”

“No shit? Really?”

“Yeah!” Jimmy laughed out, “God it was crazy. He’s gonna set me up at some fancy-shamncy hotel. But like, _why_? Why would you blow that much money on a stranger?” 

“Sounds likes ya just fine already.” 

Jimmy rubbed his neck. “Maybe. It just feels like so much. I think I’m in over my head. Everyone’s talking about this series- me- _I_-“

“Jimmy, that’s great!” Clark stood up, and lifted, with _terrifying_ ease, the red head onto his feet. There was something exhilarating about being picked up so easily, which Jimmy chose to ignore. “You’re gonna knock this right out of the park!” 

“Ya think so?”

“Of course! Come on, man, we gotta pack your bags!” 

Despite himself, Jimmy smiled. He could tell that Clark genuinely believed in him- it _was_ his idea to email Wayne in the first place, so no surprise there. CK had the ability to make anyone feel that they were going to be ok. 

“You said casual, right?” 


	5. RIDING A PRIVATE JET 😱

_Monday, 7:40am_

“I’m gonna start vlogging- that cool?”

“Go for it.”

Jimmy turned on his camera and positioned it on himself. 

“Hey guys! Today’s the day. I’m here with CK-“

“Howdy-“

“Who was gracious enough to drive me to the airport. Uh, I’m supposed to go to the front desk, and tell them who I am. Bruce Wayne sent his private-“

“-_One_ of his private jets-“

“Ha! Yea, the shitty one.”

“Guests only.”

Jimmy chuckled again. “Right. But I’m gonna be on a jet! He even got me a hotel room, which is, ya know, _insane_.”

He took a few shots of the Metropolis skyline and of the airport looming in the distance. He would continue filming himself and Clark, though he’d likely cut most of it out. His flight was only five hours, so he’d likely film very little of that as well. Pretty much only take off and touch down. 

“What are you guys gonna talk about?” Clark asked after a little bit.

“Uh, I don’t know just yet. I guess start with his day to day, go into his childhood-“

“I don’t know about that, Jimbo.” 

“Why not?” 

CK was a gentle soul. He was very patient, almost inhumanly so. Once, Cat’s douchey (now _ex,_ thank god) boyfriend showed up at the office. He treated Cat like shit, and Clark, being Clark, interrupted their fight and asked the guy to leave. The asshole yelled one _inch_ from Clark’s face- spit and all. Clark didn’t even flinch, and politely reiterated his demand, threatening to call security. 

Jimmy could see that stern look again, and knew he was in trouble. 

“Jimmy, I do believe I told you to research Mr. Wayne’s life.”

“I did!”

“Jimmy.”

“Well, I read his Wikipedia page,” his face turned pink, “The first paragraph, anyway.” 

Clark sucked his teeth, the way he did when the printer was jammed. “Jimmy, Mr. Wayne was orphaned at 8 years old.”

“Holy shit. _How_?” 

The older man sighed. “His parents were shot and killed in an alley way- right in front of him.” 

Jimmy’s throat went dry. He felt like a total asshole right about now. “I- I didn’t know.”

“I don’t know how you couldn’t,” Clark chided lightly, “There are tons of documentaries covering it. Hell, it was front page news in _Smallville_ when it happened. I remember- first time I ever read the paper.” 

“Who did it?”

“Nobody knows.” 

Jimmy took a shaky breath. “Jesus.” 

“Mm-hm.” 

What do you do after that? What does _anyone_ do after that? Jimmy couldn’t imagine what affect that would have on a kid. 

What kind of man would it produce?

Clark spoke again, snapping Jimmy out of his train of thought. 

“Gate A23,” he said as the car weaved into a spot, “This is your stop.” 

At this rate, CK had already done more than enough for him. On account of him being Clark, though, he did Jimmy the added courtesy of getting his luggage from the trunk. Jimmy had a suitcase for clothes, a travel bag for electronics and toiletries, plus the backpack and camera bag that remained permanent fixtures in his daily wear. Clark strapped the travel bag to the suitcase and handed it off to him. 

As they stood outside the entrance sharing their goodbyes, the larger man brought him in for an embrace. Jimmy knew guys who would _never_ hug another man for fear of being called gay (and, in truth, he was one of them), but Clark was never stingy with affection, and cared least of all what other people thought about him. It was a pretty short hug anyway, but long enough for Jimmy to register how tiny he was compared to Clark. He was a skinny, measly 5’6 _manlet_, and the smallest of the three (Lois was technically the same height, but she almost always wore heels). The Kansan seemed to be bigger than both of them combined, and Jimmy felt like he completely disappeared in his arms. Jimmy would’ve asked for another hug, but that would _totally_ be gay, so he didn’t. 

“Take care, Jimbo. I can’t wait for episode one!”

“You’ll be the first to see it, CK. Thanks for helping me out.” 

With a honk and a wave, Jimmy was left alone. Camera in hand, he heaved a sigh, and walked into the bustling airport. 

Metropolis’ airport was world famous for its size and efficiency. Thousands of people went through daily from near and far- business, pleasure, a return home. The signage was easy enough to follow, and he found himself at the ticket desk for his gate, where a bored clerk looked at him with that quiet disdain commonly seen among those who worked such jobs. 

With a mere ten feet to go, Jimmy’s travel bag broke free from his suitcase and landed in the middle of a busy footpath. He closed the handle to his suitcase, and bent down to retrieve his travel bag just in time for some jackass to kick it a little further away- _and_ for his suitcase to fall over behind him. In true Olsen fashion, he never once put his camera down, making the mundane ordeal that much harder. He must’ve fumbled for another two minutes before making it to the desk. 

“Hi,” he greeted meekly, placing his camera on the desk so he could get his ID. As soon as he let go of his suitcase it fell over again, but at this point he didn’t care.He juggled his camera bag and his backpack, digging through the latter for his wallet.

“Sir,” the clerk said blandly, “the flight to Denver doesn’t board for another hour.” 

“Huh?” Jimmy said, flipping his wallet open, “No, I’m leaving now.”

He slid his ID across the counter, and the woman’s eyes turned to saucers.

“Mr. Olsen!” She said, suddenly chipper. “My apologies, right this way. No, no! We’ll get your bags, don’t worry about it.” 

He was escorted back outside, on the side where the planes waited for takeoff. Waiting for him was a man in a golf cart. It was actually more reminiscent of one of the ones on the boardwalk, as it had three rows of seats instead of two. Jimmy slid in the middle row, and the attendant carrying his bags took the back. The ride felt like it took forever, but it must’ve only been a minute or two. 

He stepped into the jet and nearly dropped his camera. 

“Ho-lee, _shit_!” 

The jet wasn’t nearly as big as the commercial planes, but it made fantastic use of its space. Jimmy tracked through it, taking slow shots of every part of it. 

In the front half were two sets of gray, suede recliners that faced each other, with a polished wood table between them. In the back half, an L-shaped matching couch ran along the side and back wall. Mounted on the opposite side was a wide screen TV. Under the TV was a cabinet. Before he could ask, the attendant chimed in.

“It’s the liquor cabinet,” she chirped, “Mr. Wayne’s invited you to help yourself to the _Duckhorn Merlet_, the _Chateau Lafite Rothschild_, the _Aubert_ _Chardonnay Sonoma_, or the _Opus_ _One_ _Napa_ _Valley_. I recommend the _Aubert_.” She smiled brightly, as if Jimmy was supposed to know what any of that meant. 

“Uhhh...I’ll- yeah. I’ll can go for that, uh, Aubert. That like a scotch or something?” 

“It’s a wine, sir. They’re all wines,” she tilted her head forward, “but of course if you _prefer_ scotch-“

He turned pink. “-No, no! It’s cool. Wine’s perfect.” 

With two minutes to take off he buckled up. It was gonna be a wild ride. 


	6. I STAYED IN A FANCY HOTEL FOR TWO WEEKS! ($1MILLION BILL)

Day 1 

“So like, did I _plan_ on getting kidnapped, meeting Batman, and dating a billionaire? No- but I’m kinda getting ahead of myself.” 

————————-

** Monday, 1:35PM. Gotham City. **

It felt kinda fucked up to be on a plane that was better furnished than your apartment, sipping wine that was more than your rent. While no stranger to day drinking, he ended up not finishing a full glass, partially out of nerves and feeling like he was...too poor for it?More like he’d be spending someone else’s money. Even though, at $1300 a bottle, the stuff was pocket change to the Prince of Gotham. 

In any case, it didn’t matter, as the flight attendant handed Jimmy the entire bottle as he stepped off the flight.

“Uh-“

“Curtesy of Mr. Wayne,” she explained. “It’s his personal practice.”

He really wanted to give it back, but just thanked her and moved on. In truth, he didn’t really know what his problem was. He just had a hard time accepting gifts- he didn’t even like it when someone paid for his coffee. It was probably just pride. 

Camera in hand (and his luggage in someone else’s) he was lead through Gotham International Airport. Already, the differences between Jimmy’s home city and this one were apparent. 

“This is Gotham International,” he explained as the camera panned, “Looks...nice.” 

It was grimy, and the semi-permanent smog was visible through grayish windows. Had it not been for the person guiding him through the halls, Jimmy probably would’ve never made it out. Very few people populated the airport, and those who did seemed as miserable as their surroundings. 

Meeting the outside, Jimmy instinctively shrugged his jacket tighter around him. It wasn’t cold, so much, but something about Gotham made one curl into themself. He’d been expecting a party limo or something equally ridiculous, but was instead guided to a shiny black car. It didn’t look modern- it kinda reminded him of the Great Gatsby. The driver was waiting for him and opened the rear door. Jimmy muttered a thank you, seating himself on what had to be genuine leather. 

“Look at that,” he said, zooming in on a billboard for Wayne Enterprises right outside the airport. 

The next shot was of Gotham’s business district. Like spokes on a wheel, all the buildings surrounded one- the one with a big ol’ W on it. A king in his castle, Wayne was.

On the street, Jimmy could still see all types- from high class people strutting in high heels and expensive street wear, to the homeless who slumped against cold concrete with signs begging for change, and everything in between. 

More than once, Jimmy had to skip meals or pawn off some stuff to make rent. He’d come very close to ending up on the streets (there was no way in hell he’d move back in with his parents). Not for the first time, he was struck with the reality that he’d be spending the week with a man who couldn’t even _comprehend_ what that was. He wondered if Wayne ever gave money to a beggar, or if he even noticed them at all. 

———————

**12:10pm. The Warrington.**

“Holy shit.” 

This was quickly becoming the most luxurious trip of his life, on day one. As his chauffeur came in with his stuff, Jimmy took in the whole lobby. It looked like a fucking cathedral- frescos on a high ceiling held up by massive marble columns. The whole area glowed under the warm light of a glittering chandelier, seemingly held only by the grace of god. Even filming from the doorway, he couldn’t get the whole thing in the shot. 

His expletive echoed, and small groups of socialites looked in his direction with quiet disdain. 

“Sir?” The redhead whipped his camera to face a balding man who looked very displeased with his presence. “This is private property. You need to leave, right now.” 

Jimmy’s driver got in between them immediately and explained the situation. They spoke in quiet tones, and the hotel manager looked extremely embarrassed when he faced him again. If this and the scene at MetroAir told Olsen anything, it’s that he didn’t look like someone who’d be Bruce Wayne’s guest. 

The manager clapped twice- literally, like they do in the movies- and a squad of three servicemen came to Jimmy’s aid. They took his bags, including his backpack, as well as his coat. 

“Right this way, Mr. Olsen, sir.” 

When they got to the elevator, the serviceman swiped a card before pressing the button for the top level.

“What’s that for?” Jimmy asked. 

“This is your room key, sir,” the employee explained, “The whole floor is locked to everyone else.”

“Wha- the my room takes up the _whole floor_?”

“Yessir.” 

Jimmy’s arm went lax, allowing for an out of focus shot of his shoes. “Holy shit,” he whispered, which was apparently going to be his catchphrase this week. 

Needless to say, the elevator opened to a suite was round about 20 times bigger than Jimmy’s studio apartment. He had to steady his arms before he could keep filming. 

The space was split in half, with the bed and bathroom and the other half a lounge and kitchen. The long wall opposite the elevator were giant windows that looked over the city. The bed was colossal, with a canopy and dark wooden frame and a wardrobe to match. There was a pool table, a bar a flatscreen, and-

“What the fuck, is that fireplace?” 

Of everything in the suite, for some reason, that confounded him the most. It occurred to him that he’d never actually seen a real fireplace before. 

The hotel employee- Chris was his name-looked confused. “Uh..._yea_?”

“So, can I like, light a fire in it-“ Jimmy gasped, “wait can I have s’mores? Do you wanna have s’mores with me?” 

“I...okay.” 

And so, twenty minutes and a 7/11 trip later, he and his new friend roasted some marshmallows and chit chatted. According to Chris, Mr. Wayne has spared absolutely no expense. Jimmy had best suite in the whole damn city, at a whopping $50,000 a night, for fourteen nights. He was to have a personal staff member assigned to him and _only_ him for their entire shift (hence Chris having time for this little endeavor). He was entitled to any and all facilities, and could even reserve them for private use, if he so pleased.

“...And room service is available 24/7, obviously,” the employee finished. “How long have you known this guy? Sorry if that’s too personal, or-“ 

“I haven’t even met him yet.” Jimmy’s face burned and he felt slightly nauseas. He could not for the _life_ of him figure out why Wayne was doing all this. Who the fuck drops a _million dollars_ for a _stranger_? 

Someone with Bruce Wayne Money, that’s who. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Yea, that’s one way to put it,” Jimmy murmured, “This morning I didn’t even want to accept this bottle of wine- hey wait, ya want some wine?”

It was more of a plead than an offer. Olsen needed to feel normal, and in this case, that meant tipsy. Luckily, Chris was game. 

“A toast,” the employee said, “to living like a rich bitch.”

“Every day, brother.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry I’ve been neglecting this story! I felt a little uninspired with it, plus life and my other stories got in the way. Anyway, I now have a planned direction, so updates should be more regular. Thank you so much for your patience! 
> 
> Also, the rest of the chapters are supposed to mostly read like you’re watching a YouTube video, so the quote in the beginning is like the start of the ‘episode’. Idk, I just thought that’d be cool.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you’re all healthy and safe! Thanks for reading!


	7. Meeting BRUCE WAYNE for the first time!!

“_Money, power, cars, women- is there anything Bruce Wayne doesn’t have?” _

_“Bruce Wayne, who paid for the art museums new wing, stood to address the crowd-“_

_“Is Gotham’s prince in hot water? In a drunken outburst, Wayne allegedly flung champagne at the mayor, while hurling insults-“_

_“Well, I don’t know about you, but Wayne could call me anything he wants-“ _

_“-think he’s a pig! A cheat, just like the rest of them!”_

——————-

**Tuesday.**

“Good morning,” Jimmy groaned into the camera, “It is currently...7am. Just woke up, and in like an hour, Mr. Wayne is gonna be here.” 

The YouTuber rolled out of bed- despite it being the size of the Pacific, he’d gravitated toward the edge, lest he drown in memory foam. He hadn’t gotten excessively wasted yesterday, just a little buzz. After relaxing for the first time in the last few days, Chris helped him unpack his stuff and settle into his environment. 

He took footage of the bathroom and his morning routine. A little tooth brushing, a little singing in the shower. He even tried some fancy lotion and used the hair dryer. 

He’d planned to walk out of the bathroom to reveal the outfit he’d laid out on the bed, but had a fucking heart attack instead. 

“Good morning!” Bruce smiled. 

“Jesus _Chris_-“ Jimmy reeled, flinging himself back onto the tile. Wet feet, smooth floors, and sudden movements go about as well as porcelain and skull fractures, so it was a good thing his head ended up missing the toilet. He did end up sacrificing his wrist to save his camera, though. 

He good hear a little chuckle from just beside the door frame. 

“You alright, Mr. Olsen?” 

Jimmy’s first instinct was to be pissed off at the invasion of privacy, but he ignored it. After all, starting a fight with Brucie boy this early in the game would be less than stellar. Plus, was it really invading if you paid for the room? Was Jimmy entitled to anything from the guy who lavished an entire life savings on him for shits and giggles? 

“Never better,” he replied, passing a glance at the outline his buttcheek left on the steam coated ceramic. 

Properly securing his towel, stepped out to face his guest/host. 

Mr. Wayne was tall- _very_ tall, even as he leaned casually against the wall. He wasn’t quite as wide as Clark, but managed to be twice as intimidating, even when flashing a multi-million dollar grin. His eyes were a cold blue, with jaw so sharp you could cut your hand on it. For lack of better term, he was fucking _hot_. 

Jimmy swallowed hard, noticing for the first time they weren’t alone. “Uh..,” he trailed, eyeing the squad of three camera men, and a fourth who was carrying a drone. 

Bruce followed his line of sight. “Hm? Oh-_right_,” he said, charm back on in an instant. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t think it right to have you do all the filming yourself. But,” he added putting his hands up, “You’re still completely in charge of editing.” 

Jimmy did mind. Quite a bit, actually. He had _planned_ to do all the filming- if anything, this was nothing but more work. He thought about what Lois said, about how Bruce doesn’t do interviews. What would he even do if Bruce just up and decided not to give him all the video? 

Nothing. He’d do absolutely nothing, because he was short, and poor, and weak, and naked. So he smiled instead. 

“Uh, yea. That’s no problem.” 

“Good!” Bruce clapped, “Well, then, I was thinking to start with-“

“Can I put clothes on my body, please?” 

To his credit, Bruce put on a sheepish expression. Jimmy wondered briefly how many of his faces were rehearsed. 

“Right,” The billionaire whispered, passing a glance over his towel covered body that made Jimmy’s face heat up. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Bruce waved, gathering the small posse into the elevator. “I’ll be in the lobby. We’ll talk over breakfast.”

And he was gone just as quickly as he’d showed up.Jimmy looked around, not quite feeling like he was alone. Residual water dripped from his body as he fixated on the metallic sheen of the elevator doors. 

“What a fuckin maniac.” 

——————

This hotel was so fancy, it in fact had it’s very own fancy restaurant. Jimmy hung a little behind when they walked in.

“Table for two, please.” 

“Do you have a reserva...” the host’s eyes flicked from board dismissal, to recognition, to fear, then embarrassment- all in about three seconds. “Right this way.” 

Bruce ordered two eggs, over hard and a black coffee, which made Jimmy’s powdered sugar covered waffle seem a touch childish. For once, he chose not to be self conscious about one of his choices. 

It was strange, sitting across from someone you only knew from pictures. Like a statue come to life. 

“We just opened up a new factory outside of the city,” Bruce explained after a sip of coffee, “My plan is to move as much of the process back into the city.” 

“For like, job growth?” 

Another smile. “Well, that _is_ the hope.”

He couldn’t really remember the first time he heard the name Bruce Wayne. High school maybe? Yeah. When he took over the company at 25. That made Wayne...ten years older than him.

“We should go there,” Jimmy suggested, “it’ll be cool.” 

His teeth were _perfect_\- had to be veneers- his face a smoother shave than a ken doll. He was..._too_ perfect somehow, and Olsen couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever gotten work done. Maybe his muscles were fake too, like those people who ended up being featured on some corporate YouTube channel. 

“I agree,” Bruce responded, “But there’s one place I’d like to show you first.” 

—————

Bruce’s car was a lot like the one that picked Jimmy up at the airport. Very old timey looking, only this one was a cherry red and not black. They were headed to the Wayne Enterprises building, to get a shot of his office, and what the CEO called the best view of the city. 

“Save, of course, your view at the Warrington,” he added cheekily. 

While weaving through traffic, Bruce started to ask him questions. Jimmy freely spoke about how he got into filmmaking, and the other man listened intently. For a little bit, Olsen thought he might be getting comfortable. But when Bruce asked he knew anybody in the city, he clammed up again. Instead of saying his godmother, he lied and said no. 

Bruce pulled into his reserved spot and led him to main lobby. 

“M-Mr. Wayne!” the doorman greeted, flabbergasted, “How are you, sir?” 

“I don’t usually come in through the front door,” Bruce commented to the shorter man, “Security reasons.” 

The few people milling around stopped mid sentence when they caught sight of their boss. With just a passing glance, they straightened up and got out of the way. Jesus- was _everyone_ in this city terrified of this guy? 

“Get ready,” Bruce said when the elevator doors shut, as if Jimmy wasn’t already filming. 

“_Woah_.” 

The room itself was gorgeous- a white marble floor, dark leather couches around a coffee table, an expansive bookshelf cased in glass. Mr. Wayne’s desk was a sleek and simple design that complemented the space perfectly. Natural light flooded in behind it, providing an exquisite backdrop to match the interior. 

It wasn’t just the best view of the city, it was a view of the _entire_ city. Jimmy panned around the large windows, taking everything in. Buildings, the harbor, the tiny flecks below that were normally cars and people. He felt eyes on him, and from his peripheral it was clear Bruce was gloating due to Jimmy’s awe. 

A rumor he’d heard once popped into his head. 

“Hey- is it true you bought out a business just because their office building was going to be bigger than yours?” 

Bruce was smug. “What can I say?” He shrugged, “I like being on top.” 

“That’s what she said,” Jimmy blurted out, immediately wishing that the window would disappear and he could make a proper exit. 

The other man actually laughed though, and whether it was genuine or polite it helped ease the cringe. Maybe Clark was right. Maybe Mr. Wayne was a normal person, just with more money. 

————

Well, he had enough money to have decent car insurance, which certainly changed things up. 

Bruce drove like a lunatic on the highway. He’d cut people off, drive up to someone else’s bumper, then cut off someone in the next lane again. He claimed it would get them there faster, and presumably ‘there’ meant the factory and not heaven. 

By some miracle, they arrived in one piece, with the small camera crew arriving shortly after. 

The first building focused on assembling products- WayneTech laptops and computers, specifically. Bruce took them to the start of the line where mother boards were made, and walked Jimmy through the entire process. He explained every stage as easy as the alphabet- what order laptops were assembled, what each part was for and how many they made in a day. 

“In the next ten years, seventy-five percent of Wayne Enterprise’s product line will be made right here in Gotham,” Bruce bragged as they made their way over to where shipments were being made. 

It was another huge complex, piled up with boxes, bubble wrap, and legions of workers filling orders. They didn’t jump when they saw the CEO, some offering a wave, warmly returned by their boss. Looking closer, they weren’t like the people working in the city at all. Most were men, aged somewhere in the twenty to fifty range, many covered in tattoos and clearly worked out. 

“This is what I’m most proud of,” Bruce explained, “Wayne Enterprise’s prison-work release program.” 

“You mean these are-“

“Ex cons, yep. We take all types,” he said, putting rocking on his heels, “former gang members, drug dealers, thieves, a lot of repeat offenders. I interviewed all of them personally.” 

Despite feeling like a douche because of it, Jimmy felt uneasy. He had met people who’d been to prison, and he didn’t want to be judgmental- people change, after all. If anything, what freaked him out more is how eerily comfortable Mr. Wayne was. 

“Alone?”

“Best interviews are one-on-one.”

“Any murderers?”

“A few.” 

“Weren’t you....scared?”

Bruce’s eyes took on a strange gleam. “Not really.” 

They began the tour again, with the conversation continuing in between talking about logistics.

“Anyone you won’t take?”

The larger man’s smile strained a little. “Only the worst. And the ones who have no plans on turning their life around.”

Worse than murderers? 

“Have you met the worst?” 

Bruce took him into yet another building. “Come on. There’s one more thing I wanna show you.”

—————

The ‘one more thing’ in question was the most impressive cell phone Jimmy had ever laid eyes on. 

“It comes in two sizes, six colors, and is so durable, you won’t even need a phone case. We’re planning on unveiling them later this year,” Bruce announced triumphantly. “It’s projected to be our biggest release yet.” 

Jimmy whipped to look at him. “This year? I haven’t seen any promotional stuff.”

“I don’t _need_ promotion.” 

Jesus Christ.

“That’s iconic.” 

Bruce gleamed. “Thank you. I’m especially happy with the storage space-twice as much as our competition.”

Jimmy snorted. “Competition who won’t be named-“

“Oh, I’ll name him-“ Bruce beamed into the camera. “Hi, Lex! Your phone’s a piece of shit!”   
  


“Hahaha!”

**End of Episode One**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I uploaded half of this chapter before deleting it and adding a lot more. To me, the first version seemed underwhelming. So, enjoy this longer chapter!


	8. CK

** Wednesday morning. The Warrington.  **

What with yesterday’s surprise arrival, Jimmy got up at five, ready for anything. He was set and ready to go when his phone rang. Some guy who worked for Wayne called. Sounded old, British maybe? Anyway, apparently Brucie boy was too tired to get his ass outta bed, and so a ride would be sent for Jimmy later. 

So, so much for getting up early. He kicked off his shoes and laid back down, toying with his phone in a feeble attempt to rid himself of his nervous energy. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, he decided to call his friend.

“Hullo?” 

“Hey CK,” he said, rolling on his back, “what time is it over there?” 

“Six. I’m getting ready for work.” 

“Oh, shit, sorry. I’ll-“ 

“That’s alright, Jimbo. I’m just gonna put you on speaker.” 

God, what a saint. Clark always had time for people. It made Jimmy feel both grateful and like a piece of shit, though he was sure that wasn’t how the other man intended for him to react. 

“So,” Clark said, “What’s that Wayne guy like?” 

“Oh, he’s completely fucking whacked,” Jimmy huffed. He told Clark all about everything- the plane, car, hotel, factory, and Bruce himself. “He has so much money, dude. It’s crazy.” 

Clark didn’t really say anything, only a little hum to indicate he was listening. Jimmy took it as a cue to keep talking. 

“Yeah. Like, I know he’s a billionaire or whatever so duh. It’s just..I can’t even imagine having so much money.”

With some effort, he escaped the giant bed, and spoke as he roamed the area around him. Despite all there was to see, he kept his head down. 

“I have rich cousins. Or I thought I did. They really just have a big house in the burbs. I guess they’d be middle class or something, but my whole life, they were rich.”

“Yeah,” Clark agreed, “I guess I just don’t think about that kinda stuff.”

“I do,” Jimmy replied. His throat was tight, but he couldn’t figure out why. “A lot, actually.” 

His uncle was in real estate or some shit like that, and his wife was a doctor. Growing up, it was like his cousins got everything they wanted. All the new games and toys, a pool in the yard, all that jazz. His aunt and uncle were cool as fuck though, and Jimmy’s family visited them often. With every birthday, Christmas, Fourth of July, or whatever party, Jimmy couldn’t help but look at everything he didn’t have. His parents never let on how much they sacrificed, but it was obvious to him why _they_ never threw parties, or why his cousins never came to _their_ house. 

“I googled it,” he continued, “you know it would take you eleven days to count to a million?”

“That’s interesting.”

“Yeah- and almost thirty-two _years_ to count to a billion. And it’s like, Bruce Wayne has _multiple_ billions.” 

He paced slowly in front of the windows, the view almost making him dizzy. He stopped, looking at the one with the W on it. 

“You could spend your whole life- multiple lives just counting his money and never reach the end. That’s crazy.” He snorted. “I’m not a commie or whatever, but if that doesn’t make you wanna eat the rich I don’t know what will.” 

Clark laughed, but Jimmy could damn near see his expression change to something contemplative. 

“Well, it’s easy to get caught up in all that,” he said, “counting other people’s money and whatnot. But I dunno. I never got the jealousy thing or the celebrity worship. I don’t think all it’s cracked up to be.” 

Jimmy huffed again, but more out of disbelief than humor. “What? Having everything?” 

“How do you know he has everything?”

Jimmy hung on the question for a little bit. He thought back to what Clark told him about Wayne. He wondered vaguely if Bruce would give up his fortunes to have his parents back. If there was anything he’d give up his money for. 

“Whatever, CK. Right now he’s sleeping I think. Probably hungover.” 

“On a Wednesday?” 

“Well what else? Do you think he works?” 

“I don’t know,” Clark said, “But I do. I’ll talk to you later, Jimjam.” 

He didn’t want to hang up. He felt like he still had more to say, but didn’t know quite what it was. His phone buzzed again.

“Oh shit, I gotta go anyway, he’s here. Okay. Bye.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone’s interested, I’ve opened up fic commissions. Please dm me on Twitter @RaveThebird or email me @thepandahero123@gmail.com
> 
> In any case, thank you for reading!


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